


The Distance Between Us

by ispun



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ispun/pseuds/ispun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boarding School AU: Max is the new kid at the prestigious Westron House, and Jules and Charles take it upon themselves to corrupt him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Distance Between Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alt_reaYoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alt_reaYoon/gifts).



Charles throws his suitcase to the floor, jumps onto his bed and lies back, hands behind his head. "Well, Jules, looks like you and me are dorm mates this year."

Jules nods, barely looking up from the chest of drawers where he's busy putting his clothes away and Charles gazes out the window at the playing fields beyond. The room is small, three beds, each with a chest of drawers. A large wardrobe takes up most of one wall and beside it are desks, where Jules has already set up his laptop and some books.

"Do you have to do that now?" asks Charles. "I want to go and say hi to everyone."

Jules looks at him. "I just like to have everything tidy. You go if you want."

"Do you think I'm mad? If I go, you'll take absolutely all the space." Charles stretches out like a cat, groans. "I did absolutely nothing all summer. It was great. We went to the south of France. You?"

"We went to Italy. My family has a cottage there."

"God, how dull." Charles rolls onto his stomach and gestures lazily to the empty bed. "Who else is sharing with us?"

"Some guy called Chilton. His name's on the door. Must be new." When Jules had heard he and Charles would be sharing, he'd felt a thrill of excitement. They'd messed around a few times last year; that was pretty normal for here, all those hormones and no girls nearby, but all summer he'd thought about Charles, couldn't get him out of his mind. And now there'd be this new boy, messing things up.

"Ugh, I suppose it'll be up to us to show him the ropes. Dull, dull, dull. Well, hopefully he's not an utter bore."

Jules says nothing, concentrated on shoving his sports stuff into the wardrobe.

"What's with the glum face, Bianchi?" Charles sits up, gazing at Jules.

"I'm not glum."

Wordlessly, Charles slides off the bed, crosses to Jules' side of the room and slips his arms around Jules' slender waist.

"Don't worry. Just because we have company," he whispers, biting Jules gently on the side of the neck, "doesn't mean we can't have fun. It just means we can all have fun together. What do you think?" he asks, moving his hand down to Jules' cock and squeezing softly. Jules groans, grinds his arse back into Charles, desperate for more contact. He'd thought about this so often. Charles' lithe body, his soft blond hair. The way his angelic face hid such filthy thoughts. And more than anything, the fact that nothing ever seemed to bother him, the fact that Jules was pretty sure that Charles could take Jules or leave him, that he was easily replaceable. The thought depressed and aroused him at the same time. "Hmm?" Charles prompts when Jules doesn't respond.

"I dunno if he'd be up for it," Jules replies, nuzzling his head back into Charles' neck.

Charles laughs quietly, turning Jules round to kiss him. "Oh, he'll be up for it. I promise."

 

–

 

Latin. Jules tries to concentrate but he keeps being distracted by Charles, who's staring out the window. His tousled hair, the thought of his perfect blue eyes. Even when they'd been in their very first year, the older boys had teased Charles for being so pretty, and Charles had just lapped up the attention. He seemed to spend more time on his knees behind the football pitch than he ever did on his studies.

They'd met Max earlier. He seemed...quiet. Didn't say much even under Charles' barrage of questions. He said he'd come to Westron because it was closer to home than his previous school, and Charles laughed and told Max, quite without any hesitancy at all, that everyone knew that's what people said when their parents had run out of money and couldn't afford Eton any more. Jules had cringed, but Max had just laughed and visibly relaxed.

"Bianchi!" Jules is startled out of his reverie by the master.

"Sir."

"Bianchi, are you paying any sort of attention?"

"Sir, I..." Jules stumbles over his words, blushing. For fuck's sake.

"See me after class, Bianchi."

Charles shoots him a sympathetic look and goes back to staring out the window. Jules sighs.

 

–

 

When Jules finally gets out of the classroom, Charles is leaning against a wall waiting for him.

"What happened?" Charles asks, as they walk towards their dorm together.

"Just told me a load of stuff about needing to work hard to get the grades for Cambridge and all that."

"Hm. Boring. Who even wants to go to Cambridge?"

When they arrive at their room, Max is already there, rooting in a drawer for something. Charles flops down onto Jules' bed, leaving Jules to sit on the floor in front of him. Charles strokes Jules' dark hair with his fingers and fixes his gaze on Max.

"How's it going, Chilton?"

"Yeah, not bad, you?" He smiles, biting his lip when he sees the way Charles is looking at him, his long fingers twisting through Jules' hair.

"Not bad, not bad. Good. Bianchi here got a bollocking after Latin. Too much dicking about and not enough scholarly pursuit."

Jules rolls his eyes and Max runs a hand nervously through his blond hair, and it's like he's not quite sure if he should be here, not with the way Jules is leaning back into Charles' touch, something strange and intimate that he's not part of.

"Are you free now?" asks Max.

"For now, yeah," says Charles, continuing his stroking of Jules' hair. "But after, we've both got games."

"Oh, me too," replies Max.

"Oh, fun. I hope you like lacrosse. It's always lacrosse on Tuesdays. Fucking stupid game."

"I was on the lacrosse team at Et-...at my old school."

"Oh, well, if you were on the team at your old school -" Charles gives Max a knowing look "-then I hope you'll be on my team."

"Sure. I have to go. I have French." He gives a little wave as he leaves, while Jules nods at him. Charles winks, murmuring something about being sure to see him later on.

"What do you think of him?" Charles asks Jules when they're alone.

"He's very...Etony."

"Well, I think he's gorgeous."

"I wouldn't have thought he was your type."

"Why, because I usually go for dark, mysterious European-types instead of cute blond English guys?" Charles leans his head over the bed, his face in Jules'.

"You go for everyone."

Charles leans down, strokes at Jules' face, running his finger over the dark stubble that covers his jawline even though Jules had only shaved this morning. He presses a finger to Jules lips who kisses it gently, before Charles pushes between his teeth, leaving Jules to gently bite at it. Charles gives a little sigh and sits up.

"Do you like him though?" he says. "I mean, do you like him like that?"

Jules eyes him, still biting at Charles' finger, running his tongue over where his teeth have left marks. "You like him."

"I like everyone," Charles whispers, smirking and raising his eyebrows. Jules bites down harder, making Charles yelp.

 

–

 

Lacrosse is a stupid sport, Charles was right about that anyway. This is what Jules is thinking as he dodges the ball that almost smacks him in the face, the master shouting at him that he's meant to catch it, not run away from it. Anyway, he's too busy watching Charles watch Max. Max plays well and he doesn't seem to be tired even after 30 minutes of running up and down a sodden pitch, and Jules isn't even sure that he notices the way Charles is staring at him.

In the shower afterwards, Charles makes sure he's opposite Max, fixing him with a piercing gaze and licking his lips slowly, enjoying the way it makes Max squirm and turn away.

 

–

 

It's all Charles' idea of course, and Jules isn't quite sure why he's going along with it. He's sure nothing good will come of it, but anyway, he finds himself in Charles' bed, jacking each other off slowly, waiting for Max to come back and find them. All Charles can talk about is how hot it will be when Max comes in and discovers them, how they'll feign embarrassment before convincing Max to join them, how pretty Max will look kneeling in front of him while Jules fucks him. And yeah, Jules can't deny that it's a hot idea, but he can't help worrying what all of this means. A couple of times, both of them get close, Jules groaning and begging for release, but Charles grips his cock tightly, preventing him from coming.

"So impatient," Charles teases. "We're waiting for Max."

And eventually, Max returns, and it takes him a couple of seconds to realise that Charles and Jules are in bed together and he stumbles, stammering apologies, in his haste to get out of the room, but Charles slides out of the bed and goes to him.

"Don't run away," he says, voice full of seduction. "Why don't you join us?"

Max stares wordlessly at Charles' naked body, the colour high in his cheeks. Charles naked is quite a sight. Lithe and wiry, skin brown from a summer lying in the sun, cock hard against his stomach, and not the slightest hint of adolescent embarrassment.

Seeing that Max is rooted to the spot, Charles takes him by the hand, guides him over to the bed. By this time, Jules is so worked up by the afternoon in bed with Charles without any release that any thought of this being a bad idea is long gone. He pulls Charles to him, kisses him messily, hands in his already mussed hair and Charles responds, leaning into the kiss, still holding Max's hand, tongue finding Jules'.

"So," says Charles, pulling away from Jules. "What do you say? You want to join us? Come on, we all know what you lot get up to at Eton." Max colours and looks away, making Charles smile. "Come on." He reaches a hand out to rub at Max's cock, which is visibly swollen in his trousers. Max whimpers, biting on his lip.

"Sit on the edge of the bed," Charles tells Jules. "I want to watch him swallow your cock." Jules moves over, spreads his thighs, watches Max lick nervously over his lips. Max slides to his knees, takes Jules' cock in his mouth, grips the base, jacking him off slowly as he sucks. Charles' grip on Max's hair is tight as he guides his head back and forth over Jules' cock. And there's not much finesse to it, but finally his cock is in the back of Max's throat and any thoughts about technique vanish from Jules' head as he feels the tightness around the head of his cock when Max swallows. Jules looks up, sees the way Charles is watching and it makes him groan.

"Do you want to fuck him?" Charles asks, and it takes Jules a second to realise that Charles isn't talking to him, but to Max. Max hesitates, glancing over at Jules, and Charles dips his head, nodding conspiratorially. "He's a great fuck. So tight. It'll be fun." And Jules wonders, not for the first time, where Charles learnt to be so fucking cocky, so sure of himself. But maybe when you've had the whole school chasing you from day one, you just learn that sort of bravado.

So Jules ends up on his hands and knees, head resting in Charles' lap, as Max pushes into him, hot and slow. He groans, and Charles strokes his hair, offering words of encouragement, telling Jules he'll be fine, that he just needs to relax and enjoy it. Max's hands are gripping Jules' hips tightly, and he begins to thrust into him, tentatively at first, before becoming more confident, more steady. Charles offers out his fingers to Jules, who sucks and laps at them as his groans become more urgent, his hand reaching down to touch his own swollen cock. Charles tugs at Jules' hair, shaking his head.

"No," he instructs. "You're not to touch yourself, understand? If you come, you'll be all over-sensitive and you'll just complain when Max wants to finish inside you." He takes Jules' hand in his, squeezing tightly as Max groans, watching Jules' mouth on Charles' fingers. Max groans, stilling suddenly, and Jules can't see his face, but he watches Charles watching Max, Charles' pupils blown wide with pleasure, clearly enjoying the way Max looks when he comes.

Max slumps down onto the bed, pulling out of Jules, making him hiss. Jules lets out a little whimper of complaint when Charles withdraws his fingers from his mouth and moves round to kneel beside Max, spreading Jules' arse with both hands.

"I told you he was a good fuck, right, Max?" he says, looking down at Jules' used hole. Max grunts almost incoherently, and Charles continues. "Mmm. Wow. You're so open and wet," he murmurs appreciatively, pressing a finger to Jules' hole, which twitches, Max's come dripping out. "You're going to feel amazing round my cock. I'm going to be able to slide right into you. It'll be like I'm fucking a girl. Onto your back."

Jules moves around, pushes his knees back and spreading his thighs. Charles looks over at Max, who's watching, his eyes drawn to Jules' cock, thick and swollen, pre-come glistening. Charles rubs a finger gently over Jules' hole, making him groan. He strokes himself quickly a couple of times, before pressing against Jules. "You're not to come til I have, ok?" he whispers to Jules who nods, even though he's not sure he'll be able to stand it.

It was never going to take long, not for either of them. They've been messing around all afternoon, and it only takes Charles seconds of thrusting into Jules before he's gripping Jules' thighs and tensing against him as he comes. Jules looks up at him, and in that moment, his cheeks flushed, his eyes wide, Charles looks like the most beautifully filthy thing Jules has ever seen. Charles pulls out, gasping, almost falling on top of Max. Jules grasps at his own cock, pulling at it a couple of times, before he is overcome with pleasure. It shoots through him like lightning up his spine, and when he feels a tongue, Charles, Max, he's not sure, at his hole, he cries out, the pleasure almost too much, as white spurts over his abs.

"Mmm," whispers Charles, leaning over to kiss Jules. "You look beautiful. Doesn't he, Max?"

Max is staring at Jules, and something in his gaze makes Jules want to hide away. He knows how he looks, his cheeks red, come all over his stomach, his hole used and dripping with come.

"Well, that was fun," says Charles, throwing a t-shirt at Jules to wipe over his stomach. "I think this year is going to be fun."

And he smiles, that small smile, so sure of himself. But when Jules looks over at Max, he knows the look on his face reflects Jules' own uncertainty, the only thing he's sure of right now being that this is going to end up in some sort of mess.

They retreat to their own beds, and it's not long before Jules hears Charles' breathing even out, deepen. But Jules can't sleep, stares at the ceiling, wondering what will happen.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Understeers fic exchange.
> 
> They are all English in this, yes. Posh English at that. For non-British readers, private boarding schools in the UK are generally thought to be a hotbed of rampant homosexuality. None more so than Eton, AU Max's old school, which holds something of a special place in British public imagination as the poshest and gayest of all schools.


End file.
